My mind recycles the same phrases spinning stories out of moth-eaten yarn a tether that breaks if I try to retrace the circular steps I keep taking Milky brightness spills across the infinite black expanse of night sky and all is silent in my soul again tonight beneath the patient peace of moonlight Crispy yellow paper, the final page tender touch to close the tattered cover the burnt smell of a candle blown out tomorrow it's time to choose a new book
Spring beginnings are bittersweet a rotting smell rises with the heat roadside carcass baked in sun kept from hoping for what's to come Backward glances, Jack Frost's shadow the direction you face is where you'll go the cruelty of youth is turning away from sorrow, sickness, and slow decay Life's still blooming, the sun persists the trees don't wonder what they've missed each breeze carries the powder of new pollen raindrops don't resist where they've fallen
Final crisp air of the last days of winter fragile, foolish hopes glisten with the frost my life is cracking open to reveal a new season finding shelter from sunlight in the cool moss It's hard to keep turning pages when the book seems halfway finished making paper cranes with yellowed edges translating words that weren't written in english Skittish tip-toe steps towards the sunrise unsure sounds of someone else, footsteps at my side breathe me in deeply with the humid air of summer protective ribcage sanctuary, by your heart I will reside
The new year emerges under ice and snow the shivering beauty of fresh starts are still tangled with somber shadows The new year reminds us that beginnings and endings are both as sharp as the cutting winter wind amid this season of death, space is made for the spring The new year slips silently past the white horizon bringing the bright, painful light of sober morning to aching heads and rooms littered with good time debris The new year offers a choice to change the opportunity to bravely face another blank slate a promise we can make ourselves to keep moving forward
Small comfort in tiny hands you needed me to be someone so much better than I am The end of suffering can still be sad I wish I could have given you the life that you deserved Death always comes in winter when the ground is unforgiving I wanted to lay you to rest peacefully In the warm soil of summer when covering your small form wouldn't have felt so cruel May you finally find rest among the tangled roots snaking beneath the earth I try to save the best for last but my soul is overcast with the heavy burden of knowing Every ultimate end will be ugly each life closes in vicious stillness and the aching mystery of an empty vessel
Sorrow rises like smoke from the ashes of a dying love it wiggles and writhes through the air mimicking my desperation to avoid to postpone these violent pangs of pain could things really be different should I reconsider this decision or am I just searching for relief from this reality I do not want which self should I trust the one that has been unsatisfied the one feeling frustration and misunderstanding or should I trust the self that feels this parting as a small death, as a gaping wound in the end I'm left wondering watching the fading embers with fear in my heart unsure of whether to keep watching or try to stoke that flame, that love that was once my life
Protect the Innocent 